


Get It Right

by horchatita394, weathervaanes, wishingonalightningbolt



Series: Baby Daddy [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:40:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4829510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horchatita394/pseuds/horchatita394, https://archiveofourown.org/users/weathervaanes/pseuds/weathervaanes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingonalightningbolt/pseuds/wishingonalightningbolt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek sometimes feels like he's spending all of his free time taking care of Pyla. It's not a bad way to live, he supposes, especially since he gets to see Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get It Right

**Author's Note:**

> The second part is here! Finally! It's been a total whirlwind - in trying to write part three, we realized we needed to change part of this part, so we had to do that before we could publish it, and we also lost the document when my laptop crashed and it took three days before it could get fixed, so that was an adventure. But we're here now :)
> 
> Enjoy!

It has been approximately six weeks and four days since Stiles Stilinski reappeared in Derek’s life. Six weeks and four days ago, Derek had a handful of friends, a good, supportive family, a nice job, and a stressful but fulfilling life. Now, Derek has Liam, Stiles, and Pyla to add to his list, because apparently being good friends with Scott means babysitting whenever he gets asked. As if he doesn’t have a life.

“I could have a date,” he says bitterly as Stiles points out all the stuff in the apartment he could need during the two hours he’ll be gone. “Why do you guys always assume—”

“Because we’re usually right,” Liam says, straightening his tie.

“You date people like once,” Stiles says as he continues to struggle closing Py's onesie. “And you date them on Thursday nights before Conan. Like you schedule them that way. Seriously. It's on the Py Calendar.”

Stiles points at the ridiculous mess of markers and posts-its and pictures that they've probably stapled to the wall for lack of actual mounting skills.

Derek rolls his eyes, collapsing on the couch. “Well forgive me if some of us are more picky about the types of people we go out with. As opposed to you both, who are showing up on blind dates Kira picked out for you.”

“We trust Kira’s judgment implicitly,” Liam says in his baby voice, staring at Pyla as Stiles brings her over to the couch and Derek’s arms. “Besides, having any date is better than being stuck home alone on a Friday night.”

“You realize Kira tells these girls up front that you have a kid,” Derek says.

“Yeah, that's the beauty of it,” Stiles says as he apparently tries to arrange his nest of hair into some sort of order. “I don't have to figure out how to bring it up.”

“There is a very specific subset of women who date guys with kids and they all want to get married yesterday,” Derek says as he holds Pyla on his lap.

“God you're right,” Liam says as he turns to Stiles. “He _is_ super judgy.”

The thing is, Derek’s not good at dating. He didn’t do it at all in high school—well, there was summer camp, but he doesn’t like to talk about that—and his first girlfriend in college totally broke his heart. There were a few people during those four years, less during his first few years of medical school, slowly dwindling until… He hasn’t had a real relationship in over a year. He goes on dates, makes out with people, and says goodnight. He can’t even remember the last time he had a second date, can’t remember the last time he actually liked someone enough.

And the thing is, it would probably be easy now. He has new friends at work, new classmates he really enjoys, and so it would be easy to find someone he has some kind of connection with. Except that Stiles Stilinski exists, and Derek has been in love with him since he was thirteen years old.

He's been in love with him against his better judgment, with the full knowledge that Stiles Stilinski is an asshole. The thing is that Derek has always been friends with Scott, on some level, even when they were apart for years. Which means he's always had an exclusive inside look at the fact that Stiles is an asshole that really, really loves his brother, adores his parents, and is just generally perfect when he isn't being an asshole to Derek.

Now, with Pyla in the picture, it's easily a billion times worse. Because Stiles is a disaster of a person who probably would have gotten things together and become a workaholic if it weren't for Pyla, but now he is first and foremost Pyla's dad. It's kind of ridiculous how even though he hadn't seen Stiles for years he could still see his priorities change, how everything suddenly became about Py. Even now, asking Derek to babysit while he goes on a date—Derek who is a healthcare professional with a specialization in children—he seems agitated and reluctant to leave her with him.

“Be good for Derek,” Stiles says, brushing his fingers down her outfit, touching her little hands, her little feet. “Alternatively, be terrible to him but don’t throw up on any of Daddy’s nice things, okay?”

Derek pulls a face. “You’re hilarious. Get out of here before your date starts planning your divorce before your wedding.”

“At least that would keep the festivities short.” He kisses Py’s cheek and grabs his coat, waving to Derek as he and Liam exit the apartment.

Py is an excellent baby. Derek doesn't work with babies all too often, but he's worked with enough that he knows—the girl is wonderful. She rarely cries for indiscernible reasons, she sleeps for long chunks, and when she's awake and not hungry, she's adorable. He really does love spending time with her, so it’s not a hardship to set her in her crib with her toys while he reviews his notes and textbooks.

It’s not a problem that Friday, or the Friday after that, or even the Friday after that, until suddenly, Stiles has a girlfriend. Oh, and she’s a lawyer.

“A lawyer?” Derek hisses to Cora over brunch on Sunday. “She’s a lawyer. You know all lawyers wanted to be doctors. They’re just lazy, wannabe doctors, Cora.”

“You're a lazy wannabe baby daddy,” Cora says as she sips her orange juice. “Except you're putting a lot of work into it. Why haven't you told this guy you want to have his other babies?”

“Cora,” Derek grumbles. “Shut the hell up.”

“Okay so she's a lawyer,” Cora says with a shrug. “So what?”

“So what? So. She's…prepared.”

“I'm sorry, were you planning to go to court for Stiles' hand in marriage?”

“Cora.”

“I’m just trying to understand you, Der,” she says, gesturing with her mimosa. “You’ve been hanging out with Stiles for weeks, you babysit his kid all the time, and you have yet to hit on him. You’ve _seen_ yourself, right? You’ve been around for the ridiculous transformation from high school—the last time Stiles saw you, by the way—to now.”

“He's looking for a mom for his kid, Cora. Not a guy with a six pack.”

“Gender roles? Really? You're a nurse, Derek. Okay,” she says, throwing her hands up when Derek looks doubtful. “Fine, I'll play. If the guy is looking for another parent because he's panicky about raising the kid, I think future pediatrician is domestic enough. You're not exactly wearing a mesh tank-top before six PM.” She leans across the table, one eyebrow arched. “Although, you know, he is still a twenty-something guy with what we’re assuming to be a healthy libido. I think you’re giving him too much credit in the finding-a-mate department. In fact, I think the only reason he isn’t looking at you like a slab of meat is because you’re not presenting yourself that way.”

Derek frowns. “I don’t _want_ to present myself that way. If Stiles wants me, I want him to want me for who I am as a person. Not because of the way I look.”

“Well who you are as a person now is part of his personal baby entourage. Which is great, I'm proud of you. But maybe try to talk to the guy without the kid being around? Someone else has to be on kid-duty at some point right? Make a damn move,” she says as she stabs into her food way too viciously for lunch.

Derek doesn’t really hit on people. Sometimes he’ll go out with friends, fellow students, colleagues. They’ll go dancing or get drinks or something slightly resembling fun, and there will be people who hit on him. There will be flirtation and maybe the exchange of phone numbers, but Derek is so very rarely the initiator. He isn’t sure he knows how to be.

“Things are fine,” he finally says. “I like things the way they are.”

“Said no one ever,” Cora says with dripping disdain. “But you're a big boy, do what you want.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

“Ugh,” she stabs her fork across to his dish and snatches his potatoes.

“I don’t understand why it makes you so upset.”

“Because you shouldn’t be sitting here moping about a guy who was nothing but a total jerk to you for years of your life, Derek,” Cora says furiously. “You shouldn’t be thinking that you’re not good enough or that he doesn’t want you or anything that you’re thinking—you shouldn’t be thinking those things in regards to anybody, let alone Fuckface Stilinski.” She snatches her mimosa, frowning. “If you want something, go and get it. That’s what you always said to me. And though I think Stilinski is hardly worth it, you seem to really like him. And, admittedly, he does seem to have adopted a friendlier disposition with the birth of his daughter. So for those reasons and those reasons only, you should feel total freedom in hitting on Stiles Stilinski. The end.”

Derek slouches in his seat and frowns but the truth is that she's right and there's nothing he can do to argue that. So maybe, just maybe, he'll find a spare minute to let Stiles know that he maybe might be a little bit interested if not completely in love with him.

Stiles’ girlfriend doesn’t last long. It’s a month, approximately, before she’s shouting at him and throwing his things out the window. Derek is approaching the building mid-breakup, can see Stiles’ favorite Spider-Man T-shirt float gracefully from their fourth-story window down to the parking lot.

After that, Stiles doesn’t really date at all. Liam doesn’t either. Scott, still forever in love with Kira, remains the same. Derek, of course, goes on the occasional date. Doesn’t go on follow-ups. Doesn’t have sex.

Derek ends up babysitting Pyla the day she turns seven months old. Derek, for one, thinks it’s a date that should be celebrated, regardless of awkward numbering and general unimportance. She’s a lot more verbal now, cooing and making sharp, short, excited noises for no apparent reason. So Derek spends the evening praising her and playing with her and being generally excited to see her while Stiles spends the evening trying to end his slump, out at a singles bar with Liam.

Stiles comes back alone since it seems Liam hit it off with someone and Stiles is actually not at all over his slump. He throws his jacket over the back of the sofa and picks up Pyla from where she's propped up on pillows next to Derek.

“Py, you are officially my favorite girl and very soon—if things keep going this way—you will be my all out favorite person. Actually you’re already my favorite person and I shouldn't go out anymore ever.”

“Bad night?” Derek says, already gathering his things now that his services are no longer needed. Sometimes Derek realizes that he doesn't get paid for this, but only sometimes.

Stiles shrugs, collapsing on the couch and lifting Pyla up into the air just to hear her giggle. “It was okay. Just—a singles bar is not necessarily the best place to talk about my infant daughter. Next time I’ll try to pick someone up in a Mommy and Me class. Or better yet, I’ll just chase parents around the park saying _I’m available, someone love me!_ ” He brings Pyla’s stomach to his face, blowing raspberries into her belly. “You love me, don’t you, Py? Best girl in the world, that’s right. My favorite.”

“I'm sure there are people who wouldn't mind that you're a single parent,” Derek says, watching the two of them in a slightly hypnotized state. “I mean, they wouldn't even necessarily have to be parents themselves….”

“Oh God,” Stiles says, pressing his cheek to Py's as they both stare at Derek with identical eyes. “I'm an episode of Teen Mom.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “You’re not a teenager. You have a job. You have a support network.”

“Whatever,” Stiles says, shrugging. He pulls Pyla into his chest again. “So, it’s only ten. You have any plans tonight?”

“Studying.”

Stiles nods. “Alternatively, you could not do that. You could stay here and watch Netflix with me after I put Pyla to bed.”

Derek is a little too shocked to react at first because Stiles has never voluntarily spent time with Derek when Pyla wasn't involved and now here he is, giving him the perfect opportunity and Derek is too stumped to say yes.

“Uh, or we could…not. If you really have to study.”

“I don't!” Derek says as he finally snaps back into himself. “I don't really. We can do that, Netflix.”

“Good,” Stiles says with a quick grin. “I'm gonna warm up her milk. Do you mind?”

Derek shakes his head, voice once against lost to the slight panic in his head as he takes Py from Stiles's arms. As Stiles moves into the kitchen, Derek looks Pyla in the eyes. “Your dad’s a little weird,” he says to her half-smiling face. “God help me, but I like him anyway.”

Py gurgles, trying to clap her hands together, and Derek grins.

“Good. Glad you approve.”

Stiles storms back into the living room, eyes wide. “Dude, I can’t wait to show you this. Py held up her own bottle this morning at breakfast.”

It takes a couple of tries and a few squirts of spilled milk but she does it, if only for a few seconds before losing her grasp. Derek is still smiling like a lunatic.

“She's doing great,” he says as he grabs one of her tiny feet and watches her drink.

Stiles sighs deeply, it sounds a little satisfied. “Sometimes I think I'm going to lose it or it's all going to kill me. But she's okay. She's okay, right? So I must not be screwing her up too bad.”

Derek blinks, heart pounding in his eyes. “You’re not screwing her up, Stiles,” he says softly. “She’s great. You both are. You’re a good dad. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

Derek thinks, for a split second, that they might kiss when Stiles looks up at him. There’s something about the way their eyes meet, the way Stiles looks soft and vulnerable, open. There’s something that makes Derek want to lunge forward and test the waters, kiss him soft and sweet.

Instead, he clears his throat and faces the TV. “So. What are we watching?”

* * *

There’s a guy. A doctor. A handsome, charming, thirty-four-year-old doctor who asks Derek on a date, and, somehow, it becomes a thing. Because at first, Derek says no. He doesn’t date people he works with, especially not people he’s technically supposed to be working _for_. And Carson is a good pediatrician, a smart doctor, and a genuinely kind human being. He brings the early shift nurses coffee and donuts and is always polite and grateful, never disrespectful to a single soul.

Derek likes him. A lot.

Carson asks him out when Derek is punching out, ready to head home. Derek blinks and frowns and says, “I don’t date people I work with. Sorry.”

Two days later, Carson buys him a coffee and writes his number on the sleeve, followed by the note: _Just in case._ He doesn’t approach Derek for anything non-work-related. He doesn’t bug Derek or continuously ask him out. He’s kind and thoughtful and remind Derek when Pyla has her appointment with him.

Derek is the nurse on shift when Stiles and Pyla come in. He takes down information he already knows and does his job, doesn’t let anything effect his work. Except that there’s something about the way Carson looks at him when he enters the room, something about the way he looks between Stiles and Derek, like he _knows_. And it makes Derek upset in a way, because he doesn’t want Carson to think that there’s anything going on. He doesn’t want Carson to think he’s unavailable.

Carson ducks out for a second to grab Pyla’s chart and Derek turns to Stiles, blush high on his ears. “I need you to be my wingman.”

Stiles’ eyebrows fly up. “Excuse me?”

“The doctor,” Derek says, feeling his throat tighten with embarrassment.

Stiles's eyes are wide and—in what Derek recognizes as a paternal instinct—makes his hands tighter around Pyla rather than opening them in surprise.

“What?”

“I mean, if you don't mind? He asked me out and I said no, but I changed my mind so…you're a good wingman. Liam talks about it all the time.”

“Derek,” Stiles says, his face serious and slightly concerned. “That doctor is a man.”

Derek squints at him. “Um. Yes, I noticed that.”

“I thought.” His tongue darts out to swipe at his lips. “I thought you were straight.”

“Well I’m not,” Derek says, perhaps a bit more harsh than he intended, frowning deeply. “I’m not straight. But you don’t have to help me—”

“No, that’s not—” Stiles chuckles nervously. “I just didn’t know. Sure, I—but why do you need me to wingman for you if he’s already asked you out?”

“Because he thinks you and I have a thing,” Derek says with a wince. “Would you just tell him I’ve mentioned him? That I want him to ask me out again?”

Stiles is already nodding when Carson walks back in the room, and so Derek hands over his notes, waves goodbye to Pyla, and slips out the door.

He goes out to dinner with Carson on Friday night, and on Saturday morning, he has a boyfriend.

* * *

“So are you like…technically allowed to date this guy?”

“Uh, yeah,” Derek says as he tries to wrestle a tiny shoe onto Pyla's kicking foot. “I mean Dr. Trawal is married to Ben. So. I mean I asked Janine in HR so I'm not going to get fired or anything.”

“That's good,” Stiles says. It sounds sharp and a little angry and Derek frowns down at Pyla's skewed boot.

“I hope it’s not weird,” Derek tells him, finally securing the Velcro strap and moving on to the next foot. “Since he’s Py’s doctor.”

“Nope.” Stiles pops the end of the word. “It’s fine. Anyway.” He rounds the corner of the kitchen counter and comes to the couch, watching as Derek holds Pyla’s ankle in hand, slipping the shoe in place. “Scott said you guys are going on a double.”

Derek nods, scooping Pyla up and setting her in her stroller. “Scott’s picking the place, which probably means we’re gonna end up at Mahone’s.” He gives Stiles a look. “That’s okay, right?”

“Sure. It’s my job. I promise not to poison anybody’s drinks. It just, uh, seems a little fast. For you to be introducing him to Scott.”

“Fast?” Derek laughs. “Scott’s my best friend, of course I want them to meet. I haven’t been in a relationship in so long, I think Scott forgot I had sex appeal.”

“I just…”

Derek looks up. “What’s wrong?”

“Is it serious?” Stiles asks. “Between you two. You’ve been going out every night for a week.”

“I don’t know,” Derek answers honestly. “We get along really well.” He glances down at Pyla, who is currently gnawing on her shoe, knee bent to fit the thing towards her mouth. “I understand why it might be weird, but I promise that he’s not going to treat Pyla any differently because we’re dating, or even if we break up. He’s a good doctor.”

“No, I don't…” Stiles stops himself and shakes his head. “That's not what I'm worried about.”

“But you are worried about something,” Derek prods, his index finger now in Pyla's firm grasp.

Stiles smiles but it's so obviously forced that it nearly looks pained. “Just don't want to start losing my babysitters if they all start getting laid regularly.”

Derek smirks. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’d never sacrifice my Py-time.”

The truth of it is that Derek loves Pyla. He adores her, thinks that she was put on this earth to win him over and make him utterly unavailable to everyone else in the world. But Carson knows Stiles, knows Pyla, loves kids, and obviously likes Derek. And he’s easily the best option Derek has right now. He’s the only option, as far as Derek is concerned.

They’re good together. They go to movies and plays and operas. Carson helps Derek study for his classes and doesn’t try to distract him. He’s supportive and generous, and somehow, over the insubstantial three weeks they’ve been together, Carson has slept over at his apartment almost every night.

Derek, despite loving Pyla and wanting to be there for Stiles, has never cancelled or even interrupted a date. Until he does.

“It’s an emergency,” Derek says, pulling on his shoes. Carson is still lying in bed, hair rumpled, naked. “Stiles’ dad is in the hospital and he can’t take Py, and Scott’s going with him and Liam’s already out of town, so I have to—”

“That poor girl,” Carson groans out as he stretches on the bed. It makes Derek pause as he ties one of his shoes.

“What do you mean?”

“That's the kid that always ends up getting left at school for three hours because no one knew they were supposed to pick her up. That system the boy's got for taking care of her, it's going to get old. Everyone wants to help when she's cute, but kids have times when they're not cute. You're not going to be running out in the middle of the night to babysit for this guy forever.”

Derek frowns. “That’s not very fair. It’s an unforeseen circumstance. It’s not like he’s ditching her to go to a concert or—”

“I’m just saying,” Carson says softly, holding up his hands, “that everyone’s attitude is going to change. It’s inevitable. So he better get his act together before he loses everyone’s support.”

He doesn’t have time, honestly, to argue with him about how he feels for Pyla. He doesn’t have time to tell Carson all the ways that he’s wrong, and judgmental, and overall _rude_ , so he just struggles into his jeans and takes off, deciding that he’s not going to let it worry him.

When he shows up, Stiles is pacing while Scott stands by, on the phone with his mom. He tucks the phone towards his shoulder when Derek walks in.

“Dude,” he says, “thank you so much.”

Stiles throws himself into Derek’s chest, arms tight around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I just can’t do everything she needs while I’m trying to take care of Dad, and I know you must think I’m a terrible father, but seriously, thank you so fucking much, dude.”

“You’re not a terrible father,” Derek says softly, squeezing Stiles back tightly. “Go. See your dad. Py and I will be here when you get back.”

Stiles pulls back, eyes wide with stress and a little bit of fear, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to kiss Derek. Derek’s heart lurches, stomach twisting, wondering. Wondering if Stiles is going to make the move.

But he must have read it wrong because all he does is pull back, tell him that Py’s asleep in her crib and everything is where it usually is, that they’ll call when they get to the hospital, that they’ll tell Derek what’s going on. And then they leave, and Derek kicks off his shoes and falls asleep in Stiles’ bed, listening to Pyla’s soft breathing.

* * *

Two days before Derek’s birthday, he dumps Carson. It would’ve been simple if it could’ve just been that, if they could’ve just broken up and moved on with their lives. Except that Derek broke up with him in Stiles’ apartment, during Scott and Stiles’ annual Christmas Eve Eve bash. Derek broke up with him after he said half a dozen dismissive, insulting things about Stiles’ apartment, his parenting style, and his roommates. Derek broke up with him front of everybody and shoved him out the front door without saying goodbye.

When he goes back into work, he’s gonna be in so much shit.

He ends up outside on the terrace with Scott, watching the balconies of other families flicker and shine with their holiday decorations.

“He was a dick,” Scott says supportively, nodding. “But I’m still sorry.”

Derek shrugs. “It happens.”

He licks his lips, glances back through the window, inside the apartment. Stiles is throwing a giggling Pyla into the air, Santa hat askew on his head. He didn’t pitch a fit when Derek ruined the evening, didn’t blame him for Pyla breaking down when Derek raised his voice. All he did was take her into his bedroom and wait, wait until Carson had left and Derek had gone outside. He doesn’t even look angry.

“I was worried,” Scott says then, slow and calculating, “that you hanging around Stiles might end up being like high school.”

Derek shakes his head. “No, he’s okay now. He’s not nearly as much of an asshole as he used to be.”

Scott chuckles. “Not that. I meant you having a giant crush on him.”

“I did not have a giant crush,” Derek says hurriedly, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Dude,” Scott huffs, “I’m not blind. And hey, if it makes you feel any better, Stiles has been really, _really_ pissed that you and Carson have been going out.”

Derek blinks. “Because Carson is Py’s doctor.”

“No,” Scott tells him. “Not because he’s her doctor. Not even close.”

There’s a knock at the window. “Guys,” Stiles says, sticking his head out, “Py’s going down for the night. Come kiss her.”

Derek hears a buzzing in his head as he comes out to kiss the top of Pyla's head and waves at her while Stiles takes her away. He hears a buzzing and if he pays a lot of attention it is the sound of his own voice screaming that he has a chance. He nearly screwed up, going out with an asshole masquerading as a nice guy, but now Scott is telling him that he has a real chance. He's not sure he can really breathe right now.

“Hey,” Stiles says when he closes the door to his bedroom, baby monitor in hand, “I’m really sorry about Dr. Carson.”

Derek shakes his head. “I should be the one apologizing. I ruined your evening.”

“You didn’t,” Stiles argues. “Of course you didn’t. Look, I was hoping… I was thinking…”

The buzzing gets louder. “Yeah?” he croaks.

“I know you have your own family, and that it’s your birthday, but I was hoping you would come here for Christmas with us,” Stiles says hurriedly. “Our parents are going to Hawaii and so Scott and I were gonna throw a thing here and it’ll be Py’s first Christmas and, well. You’re part of her family too.”

His thoughts are on such a loop in his mind that he forgets to speak. He's taking too long to answer again, he knows. He can tell by the way Stiles starts to form some sort of back pedaling.

“Yes,” he says before Stiles can talk himself out it. “Yes, I'd like that.”

“Awesome,” Stiles says, grinning wide and looking for a moment just as young as he did in high school. “I promise we won't forget your birthday in all the Christmas stuff. We'll get you cake!”

Derek shrugs. “As long as you’re there, I don’t need anything else.”

“Wow,” Stiles says with a smirk. “That was almost sappy.”

* * *

Derek dresses consciously. Deep red button-down, black slacks, a matching vest. He brings a Christmas gift for Pyla, and a shared gift for the other three inhabitants of the apartment, plus a bottle of wine. He makes sure, before he leaves his place, that he looks his best. He has to. If he’s going to win Stiles.

Stiles, alternatively, is wearing sweatpants and a stained T-shirt when he answers the door, hair a mess and a hiccupping baby curled against his chest. There are tears streaming down her face that stop, almost instantly, the second she sees Derek.

“She won’t stop hiccupping,” Stiles moans. “It’s stressing her out really bad and Mom’s phone is dead so I can’t ask her how to fix it.”

Derek holds back a laugh. It's funny. It shouldn't be funny, because Stiles is upset and Pyla is distressed. But it's a little funny. He sets everything down on the table beside the door and extends his arms.

“Gimme. Go…” He pauses and motions generally at Stiles.

“Oh God, I haven't even showered,” Stiles moans quietly. Just then Py hiccups again and starts to cry out loud.

“Go,” Derek says again. “I'll take care of it.”

He cradles her close with one arm, heading into the kitchen to grab her milk. If she can drink for a long enough time without hiccupping, she should be fine. Derek really doesn’t wanna try to teach a baby how to hold her breath.

By the time Stiles emerges from his bedroom, showered and dressed, Pyla has burped a lot and squeezed out a few tears, but is finally hiccup-free. She’s also spat up all over her pajamas, so Derek rolls up his sleeves and tells Stiles to clean the kitchen while Derek changes and dresses her.

Scott and Liam—who were out getting groceries and picking up Kira—walk through the door when Derek is lying on the couch, thrusting Pyla into the air with his arms and making funny faces at her. She squeals with delight every time, which is why it’s so sad when he has to sit up and greet everybody.

They come to him, a privilege as the baby holder, but he does get up to hug Kira. He really likes Kira even if he doesn't get to see her too often. He doesn't realize it but between getting the table ready and settling in, he ends up holding Py for a long time. He doesn't realize it, which makes it all the more shocking afterwards, when Stiles takes her with an apologetic smile and Derek _does_ realize how perfectly she'd fit in his arms. She didn't even fuss.

Stiles tells him, after dinner, that he needs to go with Scott to pick up the pies from the bakery on the corner. He’s full and happy after a long meal with his friends, and so he doesn’t think twice about it, grabs his coat and Scott and heads out the door.

Scott is jovial the entire walk down the block, swinging his arms and gushing about Kira. Derek listens, like the good friend he is, and if his thoughts stray to Stiles, and the potential of mistletoe waiting back in his apartment, no one has to know.

“I hope you’re having a good birthday, dude,” Scott says when they’re waiting for their pies, leaning against the counter. “Stiles was really worried.”

Derek smiles softly. “I’m having a great birthday. I don’t really celebrate it anyway. Too much competition.”

Scott cracks a smile. “Yeah. I can imagine.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Derek tells him. “About Stiles. Not liking Carson.”

“And?”

He shifts his weight, blinks down at his hands. “I’m gonna tell him tonight. That I—have feelings for him.”

For a moment, Scott says nothing. He’s quiet, perfectly still, until the pies are brought out. He pays for them, smiles politely at the teenager behind the counter, and follows Derek out the front door.

“You don’t think I should say anything.”

Scott shakes his head. “No, that’s not it.”

“Well what is it?”

“I’ll tell you when we get back upstairs.”

Stiles’ front door is ajar when they get off the elevator and all the lights are off. Derek gets a sinking feeling in his gut, one that says he’s about to be played.

“What did you do?” he asks Scott, frowning deeply.

“Me? Oh, nothing.” His smile is huge, though, and Derek has to wonder.

But wondering is nothing without finding out. So he shoves open the door and reaches for the light, and is immediately regaled with a huge cry of, “SURPRISE!”

Everyone is there. His friends from school, his friends from work, his _parents_ , his sisters. Even Scott and Stiles’ parents are there, Pyla nestled in Melissa’s arms, everyone looking like they just pulled off the greatest surprise in history. And maybe, Derek reasons, it was.

Stiles is there, standing at the end of a long line of people, grinning like an idiot. “Surprise,” he says softly. “Mom and Dad picked up your parents this morning. Laura and Cora have been waiting downstairs for an hour to come decorate. All your friends wanted you to know that your birthday is just as important as Christmas to all of us.”

Derek’s heart feels like it’s lodged in his throat. “Stiles,” he says weakly. “This is the greatest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Stiles steps forward to hug him, arms outstretched, and Derek goes to him, tucking his face into Stiles’ neck, squeezing him tight. He doesn’t ever want to let go. And when they do pull back, slow and unsure, Stiles’ hand cups the back of his neck and presses his mouth to Derek’s, a soft question of a kiss.

Derek doesn’t let him go, doesn’t let him step away from what he’s started. Instead, he wraps one arm around Stiles’ middle and kisses him back fiercely, feels everything in him hum with pride as Stiles responds in equal measure, fingers twisting in Derek’s hair. The thing that separates them is Pyla’s sharp giggle, followed by the _awwww-_ ing of the rest of the room.

Derek is sure he's red, not just blushing, but completely stop sign red. He doesn't care though, because his arm is still tight around Stiles and the other man hasn't moved, doesn't seem to be inclined to move at all.

They’re reminded, by the way Scott clears his throat, that their parents are in the room, that Derek’s entire family just saw him make out with the guy he had a crush on in high school, that Stiles’ father was standing by while Derek totally groped his son. They’re reminded that they’re not alone, and while a huge part of Derek doesn’t care at all, they step away from each other anyway, smiling softly.

“Let’s have some cake!” Scott cries, and the guests start moving towards the kitchen with quiet chatter, leaving Derek and Stiles to stare at each other in the living room.

“Happy birthday,” Stiles says.

“Merry Christmas.”

Stiles laughs, breathy and short. “I know it’s probably too soon after—everything. I understand if you only let me kiss you because it’s the holidays.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me since I was thirteen,” Derek tells him.

“Well…” Stiles blinks. “Did it live up to your expectations?”

“Yes,” he says, more quietly and sincerely than he expected it to come out.

Stiles licks his lip and looks over his shoulder before swooping in and kissing Derek once again, soft and quick. “Good. Mine too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Part three to come next :)


End file.
